Stationary
by petitehero
Summary: Hal is recovering from his relapse. Alex is trying to figure out the afterlife. Tom wants to know where he stands with them both. And then there's Vivian, a supernatural like none of them have ever encountered who has a past with more plot twists than a thriller. Control is an illusion. Soon their alliance attracts the attention of a force none of them is prepared for.


A/N: I'm going to break future chapters down into smaller portions for a quick write and read ! I've watched both versions of the show, and have never really tried writing for either, so constructive criticism would rock all my socks. Hope you enjoy C:

I was sitting on a bench, people watching, when I found them. Or rather, they found me. I wasn't moving. I hadn't for seven hours straight. It was one of those days when I just didn't have the willpower to move. I'd spent too long on plane one, and there was a hunger building in the pit of my stomach. I had been observing a woman playing with her kid in the park, chasing after balloons and picking flowers. It made my heart hurt.

But I couldn't ignore them.

Because every one of them was a little bit like me. Ethereal, the most unnaturally natural things on the surface of the planet.

I watched them incredulously for a few moments.

A vampire, a ghost, and a werewolf. Walking all along beside each other. How were they even existing in the same space? I'd seen a couple odd pairings before, comrades, business partners, the occasional unlikely romance. But a trio? A trifecta of supernaturals?

It unnerved me.

The little boy's balloon escaped him, and he pursued it with outstretched fingertips, a darkening brow. I could taste the tears forming on the air, and I rose from my seat, catching the string between my fingers and pushing the thing back to him against the wind. He didn't question what would look like to him a complete absence of the laws of physics.

He was just thrilled to have his balloon.

I smiled at the boy briefly, and for a second I felt his eyes on me, smiling back, but really it was a just a trick of the light. Little children always seemed to have this sixth sense about them when I was near, but I knew realistically not a single one of them could sense me on this plane. No one could.

I turned back to the strangers, feeling wary. I didn't like it when their kind crossed my path. I liked to be the one initiating all path crossing.

I walked closer to them, not feeling the ground on this plane, not bothering with discretion. Not even they could see me on this plane. I was resting in the fourth plane; the one just above Look But Don't Touch. I'd only managed five so far, and this one assured me that nothing living nor dead nor undead nor any mash up of the above could see me.

"Remember the part where I don't want to be here?" The man in the center asked. He was like me. "Because I don't want to be here."

"Come on, mate." The other man said, looking at him cheerfully. He was nothing like me.

"Yeah, Hal. Stop being such a baby about it. You have to get reintegrated with society." The sole female nudged him. She was too close to me. "It's barely been a couple months since you got over your relapse."

"No part of my routine would ever bring me here. Ever."

"You really lack all concepts of adaptation, don't you?" She shook her head.

"When it applies to completely irrelevant ventures like these that lack any kind of substance, yes."

"Just shut up and smell the roses, already."

I was bemused, really. The three were obviously not part of an alliance; they were entirely too familiar with each other for that. They seemed genuinely—if grudgingly—_fond _of each other. How…troubling.

I drifted closer, just a few yards away. My dress trailed my knees on wind that really wasn't there for me. That was it, then. I was certain. They were some New Age co-existence subscribers. I wondered what was wrong with each of them, for them to end up together. They certainly must be anomalies. I felt like I had them figured out at a glance; the youngest looking one, the werewolf, was the biggest heart of the group. He seemed just happy to go along with the others. The middle, the vampire, must be the most troubled. "Relapse". Well, that was fairly transparent. I could count on less than the fingers on one hand the types of "relapses" that are specific to vampires.

Most of them revolved around blood.

_Poor little wretch. _

Something about his face unnerved me, so I looked away, focused on the girl. She, she was young. Not in the way the first man was. She was young to this side of the world—the side most humans are so everlastingly blind to. She was dead. A ghost. But she had substance—not my kind of substance, a different kind, the kind that keeps you alive even when you die. She appeared to be the head of the group. Confident. Commanding.

Maybe I did have them all figured out.

Maybe I was completely wrong.

Maybe they'd laugh at my deductions. Scoff. Disregard.

Maybe they'd try to tear my throat out.

But they couldn't, and they wouldn't ever figure _me _out.

So I didn't care.

I was so close to them now, studying their faces. They all had short hair, dark eyes. The similarities ended there. I forced myself to look at the man in the center. There was something off about the way they flanked him. Like he was a hawk on a tether. A hawk that knew how to chew through his bonds.

I was lost in thought, lost in everything. Snippets of running through forests halfway across the world, slivers of crimson and pearl and aquamarine.

"You, then, can we help you?"

She was looking me straight in the eye.

And that terrified me.


End file.
